…a boomer muses about life, change, joys, sorrows and freedom from the prison of corporate life.

The Rich Are…What?

I live in a very nice middle-class neighborhood of two-car garages and three bedroom houses in an area called “Walden.” It may be a little less tranquil than Thoreau’s, but I like it. One day I went for a longer walk than usual, turned a corner, and entered a different world. All of the houses must sell for a half million to a million dollars or more. There are all styles, from Federal to plantation house to big stone ones resembling museums. Many have huge fountains in the front and some have circular drives. My own favorite is a big yellow, vine-covered villa, perched high above the street. It wouldn’t look out-of-place on a hillside in Rome. It looks something like this. (I hesitate to take pictures of the actual houses because I feel it might be violating privacy.)

Needless to say, I christened this area “Rich Walden.” Ever since I discovered it, I love walking or driving through. And, as I wander past each of these houses, I always have the same question – What is life like for these people? And who ARE these people? I never see them. The only people I see outside are those in some sort of uniform or wearing shirts with their names embroidered over the pocket. Obviously, these are the service people doing yard work, painting, roofing, trimming bushes, or cleaning the pool. Is there another whole army inside consisting of maids, cooks, handymen, nannies and, gulp, butlers?

First of all, since I come from humble beginnings, I naturally wonder how people can afford to live in houses like these. I mean, the heating and cooling bills alone must be staggering. Or don’t they worry about things like that? And what about the property taxes? And then there are all the salaries to be paid. Are they all doctors and lawyers and C.P.A.’s and computer gurus? These must be the people for whom money is no object. I wonder how that feels.

But, aside from the cost, I’m also curious about their quality of life. Instead of programming their coffee maker the night before to come on every morning like I do, do they just go downstairs, secure in the fact that “Cook” will have breakfast ready? Do they walk around in awe of their beautiful surroundings, or do they even notice that they’re living in a mini-mansion? Are their lives more glamorous, like living in a movie? Somehow I can’t picture them running the sweeper or cleaning the toilets like me. Do they look down on average people? I’d love to be a fly on the wall to be able to observe a day in the life of someone who lives here.

Of course, I’m realist enough to know that tucked here and there in that lovely neighborhood are probably those whom the economy has hit hard. One or two of those houses could be almost empty of furniture, while the owners are struggling to pay their debts. But I bet they strive to keep that a secret.

So, are the rich happier? I mean, you must admit that having plenty of money must lower stress somewhat. And being able to buy whatever you want whenever you want it would certainly put me in a good mood! But happier? I think I’d still have this double vision problem even if I lived in my yellow villa up there. These people get sick. These people get diseases. These people lose loved ones and have their hearts broken, I’m sure. They just do it in more luxurious surroundings.

They say money can’t buy happiness and I’m sure they’re probably right. But it’s one of those things I’d like to find out for myself. (Memo to Self: Start buying lottery tickets.) In the meanwhile, I’ll just keep strolling through Rich Walden…and keep dreaming.

3 Responses

It would be nice to have more money. I’d love to shop & buy anything I wanted. But I don’t think it makes you any happier. Jim lives in one of those houses. He doesn’t own anything, no retirement, & has a bitchey wife. They don’t have friends, or entertain. They appear to have money, but they don’t. I wonder how many other people are like him live in houses they can’t afford.
Just wondering.

I also have a girl friend that has a very nice home. She isn’t a happy person. She appears to have money, but she just has bigger bills than we do. It’s hard to understand.

Nope, I think time has shown that money doesn’t buy happiness, but it helps sometimes soften the pain in life.
I, myself, will never know. But, for the most part, I don’t care either. I’m thankful for what I have which I think is probably more than average. One does wonder though what it would be like to just always have folded and ironed clean clothes at the ready, food prepared daily and all my accounts paid by a personal assistant. Gotta go switch the wash to the dryer and sit down to pay some bills.